Hushabye Mountain
by analogfrequency
Summary: A oneshot with a little bit of angst, and a lot of fluff. Jane does some emotional healing while at home with her family. Rizzles.


**A/N: I haven't really got much to say about this, other than the fact that it's nothing more than a fluffy, feelsy little oneshot that came to me earlier. I highly recommend listening to Stacey Kent's version of Hushabye Mountain as you read this, just as I did whilst writing it. Hope you enjoy.**

It was a quiet night.

Jane and Maura had spent most of the evening after dinner reclining on the couch, Jane's slender arm draped around her wife's shoulders, one eye on the Red Sox game, the other on their infant son. Maura, though by now very familiar with the rules of baseball, had little interest in the game, and three innings in, had pulled herself gently from Jane's grip to sit on the floor, attempting to entice some interest from their son in the educational toys she had bought for him earlier that week. Benjamin Rizzoli-Isles, however, was far more content to roll around on the plush carpeting by the couch, giggling to himself as he played with his blocks and cars. At just a year and a half old, he was already beginning to resemble Maura, both with the shock of honey blond hair adorning his head, and his inquisitive nature; too many times, Jane or Maura had had to hastily intervene as small, grabby hands yanked at tablecloths, car keys, bed sheets, coat racks, and even poor Jo Friday's tail. Strangely though, Benjamin's eyes were identical to the rich shade of chocolate brown that Jane's were. After much deliberation, they had chosen to use an anonymous sperm donor when they had decided to start a family together, and knew nothing of the donor aside from the fact that he was in perfect health. Even so, to look at Benjamin, one could not be blamed for thinking that, despite it not being possible, he was biologically both Jane and Maura's son.

The evening wore on uneventfully, and it wasn't long before the baseball game had ended, and Jane was busy changing her shirt, which was now mostly soaked after a half hour of attempting to bathe a squirmy eighteen-month old. Maura had since taken him from Jane to dry him, dress him, and put him to bed, affording them the opportunity to perhaps watch a movie together, uninterrupted. Jane padded from the main bedroom, down the hall, taking pause as she heard Maura's voice drifting from Benjamin's room.

"_A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain, softly blows over Lullaby Bay…It fills the sails of boats that are waiting…waiting to sail your worries away…"_

Jane smiled to herself, leaning against the wall as she listened, eyes fluttering closed. It wasn't often that she got to hear Maura sing; it hadn't surprised Jane in the slightest the first time she had heard her to learn that, on top of everything else, Maura also had a beautiful singing voice. For whatever reason though, she didn't like to sing often, and Jane never pressed her to do so, making this particular evening a rare treat for the detective.

"_It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain, and your boat waits down by the quay…the winds of night so softly are sighing…soon they will fly your troubles to sea…"_

As Maura continued to softly sing their son to sleep, Jane's eyes opened, drifting just beyond the hall to where her piano sat against the wall in the living room, as it had since the day she had moved in with Maura. Before that, it had remained in her old apartment by the door, untouched by hands that Jane no longer felt were fit to make music.

But it was here, in the dimly lit house she now shared with a family she never expected to one day have, that Jane decided it was time to move on.

Charles Hoyt had been dead several years now, and Jane's irrational fears of his impossible return had faded to a dull throb at the base of her skull. She still, from time to time, had horrific nightmares of her encounters with him, waking in a cold sweat to blood pounding in her ears, and Maura's hands trailing along her bare arm in gentle comfort. However, of all the things she had faced to move past those fears –going into a prison for the first time since her final encounter with Hoyt had proved more daunting than Jane had expected- she had yet to play the piano again, and hadn't for a good many years.

It was time to change that. For her wife. For her son. For herself.

With a faint sniff, Jane pushed the sleeves of her shirt up, and walked toward the piano, Maura's soft lullaby still winding through the house. It was a song that Jane still knew well.

"_So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain…wave goodbye to cares of the day…and watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain sail away far away from Lullaby Bay…"_

Clear notes rang out as Jane's fingers brushed ivory they had not touched in many years, accompanying the song that Maura hadn't realised her wife could hear. From beside her now sleeping son, she smiled at the sound of the piano, honey brown eyes glittering with tears that threatened to waver her voice as she quietly finished her lullaby.

"_So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain…wave goodbye to cares of the day…and watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain sail away far away from Lullaby Bay…"_

Jane was hunched over the piano, notes still quietly trickling from her fingers despite the absence of Maura's voice to accompany her, and did not notice that the doctor was now standing behind her, listening to her finish the song. Quivering slightly, Jane let her fingertips linger on the piano keys, a single tear slipping from her eye and landing on the scar on the back of her right hand. Maura's own hands lightly clasped her shoulders, and the brunette gave an almost silent, shuddering sob, leaning back against her wife as her arms slid around Jane's neck.

It was a quiet night once more.


End file.
